


What I Wish I'd Known

by SilenceIsGolden15



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Autistic Keith (Voltron), Foster Kid Keith (Voltron), Friendship, Gen, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Pidge | Katie Holt is a Good Friend, Sensory Overload, Slice of Life, meltdowns, the author is projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceIsGolden15/pseuds/SilenceIsGolden15
Summary: High school is really difficult when you're autistic and have no friends.





	What I Wish I'd Known

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Callaeidae3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callaeidae3/gifts), [justheretobreakthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretobreakthings/gifts).



> DISCLAIMER: This is entirely projection, almost. Most of this shit is what happened to me in high school. It sucked, but enjoy it anyway I guess.  
> This is a holiday gift for my lovely friends and partners in whump, Callaeidae3 and justheretobreakthings. Enjoy!

Lance scowled and slammed his locker shut. Unfortunately the sound was mostly inaudible in the noisy hallway, muffled by other similar clanks and shuffling feet and a hundred teenage voices all shouting over each other, but the person who mattered heard it.

“What is it now, Lance?” Sighed Hunk as he straightened up from his own locker, one over from Lance’s and on the bottom row. “It’s not even first period yet, isn’t it a little early to be getting mad?”

“Keith’s here today,” Lance grumbled, shouldering his backpack.

“Yeah, he’s here everyday.”

“Well I wish he wouldn’t be.”

He followed the boy in question with his eyes, all the way down the hall and around the corner. As usual he walked close to the wall, steps quick, fingers outstretched to brush along the rough brick. You couldn’t tell from this angle, but from his glimpse earlier Lance knew he was wearing his usual pissed off expression with the heavy frown and furrowed brow and had his headphones in, drowning out everything and everyone, just like he always did.

It really got on his nerves.

“Lance, your face’ll get stuck like that.”

He turned at the new voice to see his other friend Pidge sidling up to them. Her backpack was nearly the size of her entire torso and forced her shoulders to lean at an uncomfortable angle, but she didn’t seem bothered, merely blinking up at Lance from behind her glasses.

“He’s already irritated at Keith,” Hunk explained before Lance could, sounding exasperated, and Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Hey, you guys don’t have him first period,” he argued back. Someone jostled his shoulder as they walked by. “He makes AP Chem even more awful than it already is.”

“What does he even do that’s so bad? I have him in a few of my classes and he never even talks.” Pidge leaned up against the brown lockers as she spoke, probably to get out of the way of the ever increasing number of students rushing by as the first bell ticked closer to ringing.

“That’s exactly it! He never says anything or answers questions. He just doodles in his notebook. He even falls asleep during the tests! How is he in AP classes if he doesn’t take it seriously?”

“Maybe he’s just good at school,” Hunk offered as an olive branch. His feet were shuffling; his indication that he wanted to start heading for class. “One of those people who doesn’t have to study much. Like Pidge.”

Lance scowled again and folded his arms across his chest, just as the warning bell rang through the hall.

_Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong._

Pidge’s nose wrinkled up. “Well, guess it’s time for the suffering to start. I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

The two boys bade her goodbye, then Hunk walked with Lance to the door of his Chemistry classroom before heading off for his language class. After the brutal first semester there weren’t very many kids left in this class, so the first thing he saw when he walked in was Keith in his usual spot, notebook out but headphones in and eyes closed. His knee bounced under the table.

With a roll of his eyes Lance made his way to his own spot at the front of the room.

It was 7:03 in the morning, and the day wasn’t going to get any easier from there on out.

* * *

At 7:06 the teacher began to speak at the front of the room and Keith was forced to turn his music off and remove his headphones. Thankfully this class wasn’t too bad with it’s small number of students, all of whom tended to pay rapt attention, but his muscles were still easing the tension from the crowd of people in the hallways and in this class the silence was a double edged sword. When it was quiet he couldn’t use his fidget cube-- the clicking annoyed the other students.

He settled for bouncing his leg as he answered the daily warm-up question, clenching his jaw to keep the yawns from escaping. He’d fallen asleep on his textbook at about three am the night before and his eyes were burning. This class was brutal; a double period back to back, so that the actual class lasted almost two hours, with labs every week and exams every other week.

He was managing with a B, but god, at what cost?

The time went by at a crawl. The last half an hour before class ended was always a confusing time for Keith-- he never knew whether he should want it to go on longer so that he could avoid the hallways, or if he wanted it to end so that he didn’t have to balance equations anymore.

But as always the never-ending linear march of time decided for him, and at 8:40 he packed up his notebook and pens and highlighters just like everyone else, tucked his headphones in his ears, and braved the hall.

It always reminded him of a river, the current pulling one way with crowds of salmon trying to leap upstream. He felt like the salmon.

There was never enough room in the hallways for everyone. They crowded around each other, packed like sardines, and his shoulder blades physically ached when he tensed up. He couldn’t help it-- he could feel people behind him and he did _not_ like that. The music he had blaring in his ears drowned out the constant chatter from all the kids which was the only thing keeping him from a complete meltdown every time he moved from class to class.

The people in front of him were slow. The pace grated on him, he just wanted to get to class and get out of this, but there were people to either side and behind him too and he couldn’t get away. That’s what he hated more than anything. The sensation of being trapped.

His lungs were just beginning to tighten up when he rushed into his next classroom, and the sudden space from the crowd was like a breath of fresh air to someone who was drowning. He immediately slumped into his seat and put his head down, letting the darkness soothe him from the harsh lights that hummed overhead.

It was 8:43. They had two minutes before class started. The other students were milling around, chattering and talking to each other while the teacher sat at her desk, trying her best to get her own five minutes of reprieve before the next hell cycle.

Keith stared down at his feet, his right leg still raised up on the ball of his foot and twitching to a consistent rhythm. He could get away with using his fidget cube in this class, but not his headphones, which here was a problem. This was AP World History, a class that a lot of the less dedicated students took for their required AP credit. Which meant lots of goofing off and not paying attention.

Which meant noise.

Yeah, this was going to be a long day.

* * *

Pidge scrolled idly through her phone. The bell was going to ring any second now and her group chat with Lance and Hunk was still blowing up-- today something about how the AP Chem teacher had actually told them the wrong information and thus made all of the students get one of the questions wrong on their last exam.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the teacher get to her feet, and with a sigh slid her phone back into her hoodie pocket. The majority of the other students-- all thirty six of them-- didn’t cease their chatter even as the SmartBoard booted up and displayed the powerpoint for today’s lesson on feudalism.

“Alright guys, time to get going,” said the teacher, barely audible over the din. A few students ceased, but most didn’t and the woman’s tired, lined face immediately twisted in frustration. “Guys! Quiet!”

The students kept talking.

“Hey!”

Pidge leaned her cheek on her fist and stared across the room, bored. They were seated in alphabetical order by last name, so she was in the second row on the left side of the room. On the right side near the window was the dark shape she recognized as Keith, the boy Lance seemed to hate so much, dressed in his usual black jeans and red and white hoodie. She was pretty sure he’d worn that hoodie every single day this year without exception, even when it was still August and the temperature was in the upper nineties.

The teacher, a poor frazzled red headed woman, practically screamed over the students to try and get their attention. Pidge’s eyes had begun to wander back towards the board, but snapped back when she noticed Keith give a violent flinch in response to the woman’s voice. He’d taken his headphones out and seemed to be regretting it, as he was hunched over with his forehead on the desk and his hands over his ears. His leg bounced so quickly it was making his entire body shake.

With raised eyebrows she shot a look back towards the teacher. She, of course, hadn’t noticed Keith practically curled up in the fetal position in his chair-- she was too busy trying to get the class of sixteen year olds to pay attention to her. Finally, after five minutes of trying, she got almost everyone (except three girls in the back corner) to be quiet so that she could begin the lesson.

Keith didn’t uncurl for another minute, and when he did Pidge was watching closely enough to notice how his breath stuttered. As she watched he reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather riding gloves, slipping them onto his hands and curling his fists in them. After a few seconds he let out another breath and picked up his pen to start taking notes.

Pidge turned back to the powerpoint, but her mind wandered. It was a bit creepy, wondering over someone's behavior like this, but Lance had been making such a big deal over Keith for so long that she couldn’t help but be a little curious. She knew Hunk had him in fifth period. Maybe at lunch she could ask him to do a little observation.

Yeah. That’s what she could call it. Observation. Lance would undoubtedly get huffy, wondering why she was paying attention to his self-proclaimed “rival”, but he would just have to get over it. Because now she was curious.

And when Pidge was curious, she didn’t give up until she’d been satisfied.

* * *

Hunk was of course weirded out by Pidges request that he stalk Keith, but as a good friend he decided to do his duty and agree. Besides, fifth period was after lunch and was always the most tiring time of the day, so if watching Keith kept him awake he’d do it.

Thankfully, Keith made it easy for him.

The moment he walked in the room Hunk could feel the agitated vibes rolling off of him. Usually he was a little prickly when he came in the room, he’d noticed that before at least, but this time the agitation wasn’t dissipating. If anything it seemed to be growing.

One minute before class started he tipped forward and put his hands over his ears-- exactly as Pidge had described. He stayed that way until class officially started and the teacher began her daily ritual of trying to get everyone’s attention, at which point his leg bouncing got so bad he was shaking. Just like Pidge said.

The classroom was a cacophony of teenagers chattering and the high strung teacher getting more and more upset trying to wrangle them into submission, and this situation was clearly not doing it for Keith. He looked so upset that Hunk was on the verge of getting up and going to ask if he was ok when suddenly Keith stood up, slamming his palms down on the table.

“Jesus Christ, will everyone shut the _fuck up!”_

Immediately the chatter in the room picked up again, the students tittering to each other over what had just happened, some laughing, while the middle aged teacher gasped in pure shock.

“Keith!” She cried in reprimand. “Office, now!”

Keith left his backpack at his desk when he scowled and stormed from the room. After shouting the instructions for the day’s warm-up at them the teacher followed, and while the class descended into chaos once again Hunk slid his phone from his pocket.

_H: you will not believe what just happened with Keith_

_P: What?!?!? Tell me!!!!!_

By the time the teacher returned he’d typed out an account of the whole incident and sent it to his partner in crime. He put his phone away when she click-clacked back into the room in her heels, but was surprised when Keith slinked in after her. He was clearly still upset, grinding his teeth and glowering at anyone who met his eye while he sunk back into his seat, and when the teacher went up to her spot at the board he flipped up his hood, put in his earbuds, and put his head down on his desk.

The whole rest of the class his leg bounced restlessly.

Hunk couldn’t even pretend to pay attention to the lesson that day. He spent the whole period texting Pidge, ruminating on Keith even though he knew Lance was going to tear his head off when he found out.

_H: Which classes do you have with him?_

_P: Third and seventh_

_H: I only have him fifth. Lance has him in first and second right?_

_P: yeah, for AP Chem_

_H: Have you ever seen him with any friends?_

_P:..._

_P: no_

_H: that’s a problem. There’s a whole group of guys in this class who like to pick on him_

_P: it’s the same in third and seventh. I think it’s the same group of guys: the ones that drive you crazy too, right?_

_H: yeah I think so. Sendak and Lotor and all them_

_P: ok but what are we gonna do about it? Lance hates him_

_H: Well we’ll just have to make Lance not hate him anymore_

_P: lol good luck with that big guy_

But even as she said that, Hunk was already devising a plan of attack. By next week Keith would be their friend, and that was just that.

Lance would have to get over it.

* * *

The ride home was tense. Keith slumped against the passenger side door, rapidly clicking the switch on his fidget cube back and forth, back and forth. Shiro drove with locked elbows and a tired expression.

Halfway home he opened his mouth.

“We’re gonna have to talk about it eventually.”

Keith shrank even further into his seat. “I already said I’m sorry.”

“That doesn’t explain why you did it.”

“It was too loud.” Keith was speaking more to the window than to Shiro, not wanting to see the look on his face. All he wanted was to go home and climb into bed until the tension unwound from his muscles and the headache faded. “It was so loud all day-- no one ever shuts up.”

Shiro sighed. “That doesn’t mean you can just shout at the class.”

“I know, Shiro. I didn’t mean to. I just… snapped.”

Silence for another two minutes, before Keith mumbled, “I hate going there.”

“I know, bud,” said Shiro with an unhappy twist to his mouth. “But--”

“But you think I need to have ‘social interaction’.” Keith answered with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “What’s even the point if I don’t have any friends and the only social interaction I get is people being dicks to me?”

“Keith--”

“Nevermind.” He crossed his arms, hugging them close to his chest and squeezing to make the tension go away. “It doesn’t matter. How long am I grounded for?”

“Since the school didn’t punish you, I don’t think I should either. But you could at least _try_ to make some friends. Go to a club or something.”

Keith scowled at the floor. “The only clubs that get any funding at that shit school are the sports ones. I don’t think so.”

They rolled into the driveway and Shiro turned off the car, leaning back in his seat to run a hand through his hair. Keith was already unbuckled and opening the door by the time he spoke.

“I’m not doing this to hurt you,” he said with those irritating as hell sad eyes. “I genuinely think this is what’s best for you.”

Keith closed the car door and walked up to the house without answering.

* * *

“So, Lance, what do you think of the plan?”

Lance slammed his locker shut. “I think it’s awful and you’re both delusional.”

Pidge and Hunk exchanged a knowing look and an eye roll, but Lance was too wrapped up in his oncoming rant to notice or care.

“Haven’t you been listening to me at all for the last semester? Keith is not the kind of person we want to be friends with!”

Pidge propped an unimpressed hand on her hip. “Have you ever actually _spoken_ to him?”

“No! I don’t know if you guys have noticed, but he’s not exactly friendly.”

“Neither am I,” Pidge retorted. “Look, just let us invite him to eat with us today, and if he turns out to be a jerk you can have bragging rights for a whole month, ok?”

Lance scrunched up his mouth. “Two months.”

“Six weeks.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it as the bell rang, and then they all went their separate ways. When he walked into his Chemistry classroom he was unsurprised to find Keith doing his usual headphones-in eyes-closed leg-bouncing routine and tore his eyes away with a clenched jaw.

He didn’t have time to fixate on Keith. He had a 4.0 GPA to maintain.

Unfortunately his brain seemed to have other ideas. They had a lab to complete that day during second period, and all through it he found his eyes wandering across the room to where Keith sat with his ever bouncing leg. His voice wasn’t audible over the other chatter in the room-- he seemed to be keeping his head down and just doing the lab without screwing around.

Then he caught himself staring and firmly turned back around. How Keith was in class didn’t matter. He was still a jerk and in a couple of hours he would be proved right and that would be the end of it.

Third and fourth periods passed slowly, as the mid-morning classes tended to do, and then he was meeting Hunk and Pidge in the cafeteria. Hunk and Lance always brought their lunches, so Hunk hauled Lance in a lap around the huge, crowded room to search for their target while Pidge bought some overpriced pizza from the massive line. The distinctive red and white hoodie was nowhere to be found, and at first Lance thought his friends would give up on their quest, but instead they went outside to try and find him there.

“He doesn’t seem to like noise very much,” Pidge explained, busily gnawing on her grease-slice. “He’ll probably be out here somewhere.”

Pidge’s determination to track down Keith wasn’t shocking. When she got an idea into her head she hung onto it like a pitbull with a chew toy. What threw him off balance was Hunk. Usually he was so easy going, but today he had an iron grip on Lance’s wrist and a determined set to his jaw that said they were going to find Keith if it was the last thing he did. And Lance, frankly, didn’t get it.

They did eventually find him, much to Lance’s chagrin. He was sitting at the farthest, most lonely of the outdoor tables at the edge of the hill that led down to the athletic fields. Hunched as usual (would it kill him to sit up straight?) with his headphones in.

Pidge, ever the bravest of them all, approached first. Keith didn’t seem to hear her approaching thanks to the headphones, so she reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.

He jerked violently and recoiled from her hand, whipping around with that same scowl he always wore. Lance’s eyebrows began to climb.

Pidge gestured to his headphones and he reluctantly pulled one free, letting it dangle over his shoulder. His jaw twitched like he was grinding his teeth.

“Uh, can I help you?” Huh. Not as rude as Lance had been expecting, but still awkward.

“Do you mind if we sit here?” Pidge asked, surprisingly nonchalant for how focused she had been earlier. “Everywhere else is full.”

“If-- if you want to.”

Pidge immediately sat down beside him, though on the other end of the bench, and Hunk hauled Lance around to the other side. He tried his best not to glare as he dug into his lunch.

For a minute or two there was silence, everyone eating instead of speaking. Lance could hear the music playing from Keith’s headphones, something loud with lots of drums and guitars, and it didn’t shock him one bit.

Pidge swallowed the last piece of her pizza and wiped her fingers on her cargo shorts.

“You’re Keith, right? I think we have third period together.”

He looked at her blankly for a moment, then blinked.

“Oh, yeah.” His voice was painfully quiet. “You sit on the left side of the room, right?”

Pidge nodded her head, pleased. “Yeah, that’s me. Do you have a partner for the religion project yet?”

Keith’s shoulders hiked up around his ears, arms crossing tight over his chest. Lance had to bite back a cringe. His body language was just screaming defensive-- he was bracing for a vicious snap.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead Keith murmured, “No. I was just going to do it myself.”

Pidge answered with an understanding hum while Lance gawked. He’d never before seen someone’s words clash so aggressively with their body language. It was baffling.

“I don’t have a partner either. I figured why bother if I was going to wind up doing the work alone anyway.”

Keith gave a hesitant little chuckle. “Yeah, I thought the same thing.” His eyes finally shifted away from the tabletop to flicker over Lance and Hunk, who took it as his cue to introduce himself.

“Hey, I’m Hunk, we have fifth period together.” He gave a little wave and a smile, which Keith mimicked like a robot trying to learn how to human. Lance barely kept from rolling his eyes.

“This is Lance.” Hunk left a pause, probably intending for Lance to add something on, but he stubbornly remained silent.

Keith frowned thoughtfully. “There’s a Lance in my chem class…” He trailed off, then very quietly and with a great deal of hesitation, “Is that you?”

Honestly Lance was surprised. With how disconnected he seemed in class, he didn’t expect Keith to have noticed him.

“Yeah, that’s me.”

Keith looked visibly relieved that he’d gotten it right. But then he faltered, apparently unsure of how to continue the conversation, so it was up to Lance to save them from awkward silence.

“What’d you get on the last exam?”

He frowned. “A seventy-eight. I studied my ass off for it too.” Then his eyes widened, and a hand rose to cover his mouth. “Uh, sorry, I don’t know if you guys are ok with swearing--”

Lance laughed, genuinely, which he wasn’t expecting to do.

“Dude, have you ever heard Pidge lose at Overwatch? It’s fine.”

Then the bell rang and all of them scrambled to finish eating in the next thirty seconds.

“Do you wanna walk with me to class, Keith?” Asked Hunk once he’d finished inhaling his sandwich. “Since we’re going to the same place?”

“Um. Ok. Sure. I guess.” Keith glanced back at the building, anxiously fidgeting with his headphones for a moment before tucking them away in his hoodie pocket.

Wow. Keith walking through the halls without headphones? Unheard of.

“See you guys later!” Hunk said with a cheery wave as he walked away with Keith. Pidge was probably gloating all the way to their next class, but Lance wasn’t even listening.

Keith hadn’t been an asshole. Awkward for sure, but surprisingly not-asshole-ish.

Huh.

* * *

He’d put his headphones away to be polite.

He was really regretting it now. So many _voices;_ all over, bouncing off of walls and coming back at him twice over, little snippets of conversation lunging through the underlying roar, and already it was setting his teeth on edge. The crowd wasn’t helping, he couldn’t walk at his own pace, people were everywhere (especially at his back oh _god)_ and he was very distinctly aware of the fact that he was shutting down when he was supposed to be trying to act normal for once.

But strangely enough, Hunk didn’t seem to mind his tension. He walked amicably at Keith’s side, not trying to talk to him over the tsunami of voices, and didn’t seem bothered by Keith’s silence.

When they finally ducked into the slightly quieter classroom, he even gave Keith a minute to unwind before trying to talk to him.

“I had fun talking to you at lunch today,” he said. Keith shoved his hands into his pockets, eyeing the time as the other teenagers bustled around them to get to their seats before the class began. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Was he supposed to agree? Say thank you?

“Yeah, uh, I did too.” And he had. Talking to people wasn’t all bad in small doses-- especially since the school day was usually an extended version of the quiet game for him.

Hunk beamed, so he must’ve said the right thing. “Great! I’m glad! Would you mind if we sat with you again tomorrow?”

“No, I wouldn’t mind.”

“Awesome, we’ll meet you at the same table then.”

Then Hunk went to his assigned seat and Keith slipped into his, still in a surprised daze as the teacher began to talk.

Had he just made a friend?

* * *

The next few days were surreal. He continued to eat lunch with Hunk, Pidge, and Lance. Hunk would walk with him to their class afterwards, and Pidge would shoot him a cheery wave in the classes he had with her. Lance didn’t try to talk to him in their class, but honestly he didn’t mind. He wouldn’t have enough brain cells operating that early in the morning anyway.

It was nice, having some people to talk to for a few minutes every day, but it was also nerve wracking. He was trying so hard to act normal (even though he didn’t even really know what normal was), and he was more than aware of the fact that he wasn’t always succeeding.

Sometimes Hunk’s smile would tremble a bit, or Pidge’s eyes would flicker, and Keith wasn’t a social master by any means but it gave him the feeling that he’d done something wrong. It was the same thing the nicer foster families he’d lived with before Shiro had done before quietly scolding him for being strange or rude or whatever it was he’d done.

Lance was more obvious. Most of the time he’d frown, or his eyebrows would raise, and that reminded Keith of the not-so-nice foster homes. The ones that liked to shout at him when his leg bounced or would smack him upside the head if he said something wrong.

He didn’t know what to make of Lance. Some days he looked at Keith like he wasn’t even sure he was human, and other days they’d laugh together like old friends. On Tuesday Keith had made a joke to Hunk and Lance had immediately leapt to his defense, completely sincere, and on Friday he’d spotted Keith’s fidget cube and excitedly pulled his out to compare.

Lance was incredibly confusing. But at least he was nice for the most part.

All of that was put to the test on Monday morning.

Now, at this point sensory overload was just a fact of Keith’s life. An unpleasant one, but a fact. He could count on going through the school day and getting overloaded at least twenty times. Usually he could handle it, as exhausting and irritating as it was. But there were some days when his body just decided that nope, no sound or other human being will be tolerated today. Today was going to be one of those days, judging by the fact that he was on the verge of frustrated, overwhelmed tears in the middle of first period.

Fuck. If the kid next to him nudged his elbow again, if the chair in the back of the room squeaked again, if he had to listen to the teachers voice awkwardly pitch in the middle of the word ‘borium’ again, he was absolutely going to lose it. He was already bouncing his leg so hard he couldn’t read his own notes from the way it was jolting his entire body.

The speaker in the wall crackled to indicate the beginning of morning announcements and Keith cracked. He barely kept control of himself long enough to ask to go to the bathroom before bolting out of the room.

Usually the bathroom would be a sanctuary-- calm and quiet. But the speakers were in here, too, and the voices coming through were staticky and echoed on the tile walls. Normally he would’ve gone into a stall for a little privacy, but today he didn’t even make it that far. He froze exactly where he was and planted his hands over his ears.

The voices felt like physical things. Grinding on his nerve endings, sending prickles of irritation all over him that he just wanted to scrape off with his fingernails. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t make it go away, couldn’t make it _stop--_

Behind him, the door opened.

“Keith?”

Lance’s voice layered on top of the ones from the speakers and he cringed, withdrawing into his shoulders like a tortoise into its shell.

“Are you ok?”

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want to meltdown in front of Lance and ruin the only set of friends he’d ever had but he also really needed Lance to stop talking right fucking now.

He didn’t hear so much as feel Lance take a step forward and he flinched away, hands still firmly pressed over his ears. Thankfully he didn’t say anything or try to move closer again. He just stayed where he was and waited.

The announcements finally finished, and with a click, the speakers turned off. Keith let out a shuddery exhale and forced himself to breath in again. In and out. In and out. Lance let him have his balm of silence for a minute or two before speaking again in a lower tone.

“What was that about?”

Keith bit his lip. His hands had moved from his ears, but only far enough to bunch in the hair that gathered around the back of his neck. God, he just wanted to go home.

“Nothing,” he rasped out, hating how his voice caught on an unvoiced sob. “Just a bad day.” Talking was hard. He was too quiet and it took so much energy to find the right words to go in the right order when all he wanted to do was scream out his frustration.

Lance was quiet for a moment, considering. “Do you want to sit down?”

Keith paused, surprised, but managed to nod within an acceptable (he hoped) frame of time and followed Lance to the far wall where they both sat. Lance sat with his legs crossed, open, while Keith drew his knees to his chest and cocooned them with his arms. Being compact felt better than being spread out all over the place.

“Do you want a hug?”

Keith immediately shook his head before freezing. Would that be rude, to refuse outright like that? Would Lance get mad?

He didn’t seem like he was going to. He merely nodded a bit, staring off into the distance with a contemplative expression.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head again, more tears welling up. Normally when he got into these moods he would have a hand sign for Shiro, a signal to tell him not to try and talk to him and just leave him alone until he stopped feeling so hemmed in by sensation. But Shiro wasn’t here and Lance didn’t know his signals, and Lance was a chatterbox and would inevitably talk to fill the silence while Keith tried his best not to hit him just to make him shut up.

Surprisingly enough, that didn’t happen. Lance just murmured a quiet, “Ok,” and leaned back against the wall. Then there was silence, blissful silence, as the minutes ticked by and Keith slowly began to uncoil. As soon as the tension was gone he would be exhausted, but for now it was ok.

“Thank you,” he mumbled to Lance once the noose loosened around his throat.

“No problem. Are you alright?”

He took a steadying breath. “Yeah. It’s just… hard. Today.”

Lance shot him an indecipherable look. “What is?”

Crap. Now he had to explain. _Crap._

“Well, I, um, don’t really like a lot of noise. And people. And most days I can deal with it but some days are just… harder.”

Keith expected him to press. To ask probing questions. To offer advice. To try and “fix” him like so many others.

But Lance merely gave a solemn, contemplative nod.

“Are you on the spectrum?”

Keith was shocked. Shocked that he knew what it was, shocked that he knew how to ask, shocked he’d recognized it. He was so shocked he said yes. Lance was unfazed, completely casual.

“So’s my sister. Do you need to go home, do you think?”

Keith automatically shook his head, even if he’d lie nothing more than to text Shiro and ask to go back to their house where it was calm and quiet.

“I can’t fall behind. I just have to deal with it.”

“Hm.” Lance didn’t seem to agree with the decision, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Ok. Do you want to go back?”

“Not yet. I need a few more minutes.”

“Ok. I’ll go back first so we don’t get in trouble, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright. Thank you, Lance.”

Lance, halfway to getting to his feet, looked amused. “Thanks for what?”

“For…” Keith hesitated, trying to figure out what he meant. “For understanding, I guess.”

Lance smiled a little sadly. “No problem. Do you want me to mention it to Hunk and Pidge? They’ll understand.”

“Uh, sure.”

“Ok. See you in a few minutes.”

Then he left the room, Keith still sitting against the wall, caught in a whirlwind.

* * *

That day at lunch, Pidge asked him for his phone number and added him to their group chat, and Lance showed him how to mute the notifications.

Then, in fifth period, she sent him a link to a YouTube video. He’d already snuck his earbuds in to deal with the rowdy classroom, so it wasn’t hard to hold his phone under the desk and tap the play button.

 **PLEASING/SATISFYING SOAP CUTTING ASMR!** The title proclaimed in bolded capslock. Normally he hated ASMR-- he couldn’t stand people whispering-- but thankfully there wasn’t any on this video.

The first image was a bar of fluorescent orange soap bearing scour lines that carved the top half into little cubes. Then a hand appeared, perfectly manicured and holding an extended box cutter.

Carefully, deliberately, they drew the blade through the soap. The cubes gathered atop the steel, and when brushed aside, fell to the table below with an unspeakably pleasing clatter.

Keith’s jaw dropped.

He watched the whole thing through, twice. Then right before class ended he sent a text back, empty except for twelve exclamation points.

Pidge responded, _I’m glad you liked it._

* * *

A lot of parts of school were difficult for Keith. But by far the worst, the event that made him want to run and hide and had him begging to stay home every time it rolled around, was the dreaded pep rally. Literally the entire student body, all shoved into one massive echoing room, _encouraged_ to be as loud as humanly possible while the principal shouted over all of them through a microphone and the band played in the corner, all for the sake of god forsaken _football?_

Yeah, no thanks.

The next one rolled around about two months after he met his new friends, and Keith damn near lost his voice begging Shiro to let him stay home or get picked up early so he wouldn’t have to go. Shiro was sympathetic, but his work schedule wouldn’t allow him to leave early, and Keith sadly had an exam in cursed AP Chemistry that he couldn’t miss.

So he trudged off to school with dread weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Somehow Lance was able to tell the difference between his current dread and his normal dread, and during their five minute break between first and second period shuffled over to his desk with a concerned furrow to his brow.

“Hey, is something wrong? You look pretty wound up.”

Keith rubbed an irritated hand over the back of his neck. The skin there was prickling unhappily— usually he liked his long hair, but some days it made his neck itch.

“Um— it’s nothing, just… the pep rally is today.” Lances face instantly smoothed over with understanding, followed by concern.

“Those aren’t a lot of fun for you, are they?”

He gave a sullen little shake of his head in answer. It still felt weird being so upfront about it. For the longest time he’d been ignored, or expected to suck it up and deal, and a part of him still insisted he was being over dramatic. But Lance didn’t look annoyed or put out, just sympathetic.

“I’ll text Hunk and Pidge, maybe we can figure something out.”

Keith frowned. There wasn’t anything to figure out, attendance was mandatory so he’d just have to go and try not to have a complete meltdown (only a mini, quieter one) but before he could ask for an explanation the bell was ringing again and kids were filtering back into their seats. With only a reassuring smile, Lance followed.

Later on, at lunch (which was earlier than usual thanks to the pep rally at the end of the day) Pidge leaned her elbows over her empty paper plate and fixed Keith with a look.

“So, Keith, we have the same ending period.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah?”

“Ok, so when the bell rings and everyone goes to the auditorium, follow me instead.”

“Um,” Keith fidgeted in his seat, his thumb in his hoodie pocket and clicking away at his fidget cube. “Where will we be going?”

“Just the library. The librarians will be going to the rally too, they have to, but they don’t lock the doors. We can just hide in there until it’s over.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, gnawing on his lower lip. “Won’t we get in trouble if they catch us?”

Pidge shrugged. “Maybe, but we’ve never been caught before. Lance and Hunk will meet us there.”

Keith snuck a glance at the boys, who both gave encouraging nods and smiles.

“Trust us,” said Lance, “None of us have gone to more than two pep rallies the whole time we’ve been at this school. We’re pros at this by now.”

“Well, ok. If you guys are sure.”

* * *

The rest of the day was irritating, to say the least. The schedule was screwed to hell and back, so every class was barely forty minutes, and as such the students didn’t bother to pay attention. Having predicted this, the teachers didn’t plan anything for the day and basically just sat at their desks and told everyone to do some busy work they all knew they weren’t going to grade. Which, of course, meant everyone was talking all at once, shouting over each other to be heard, and Keith wanted to crumble into little pieces under the onslaught.

Somehow he managed to keep himself together until the end of the day, barely with glue and thumb tacks. Pidge sidled up to his side on the way out the door, and he hooked a hand into her hood to help him hang on and keep them together in the horrendous crush of students filling the hallways.

The whole walk to the library building Keith’s skin was crawling. He nervously eyed the teachers near the walls, herding the student body towards the gym, braced at any moment for one of them to spot him and Pidge and force them back to where they’re meant to be.

But to his surprise it never happened. He and Pidge arrived safely at the library doors, and as Pidge had promised, the doors weren’t locked.

Stepping into the quiet building felt like plunging into the deep end of a pool: sound muffled and vanished, and the relief felt like cool streams running over his arms and down his spine.

Keith sighed and let his hand fall free of Pidges hoodie. She led him to the back corner, where Lance and Hunk were sprawled out on some bean-bag chairs with their backpacks at their feet.

“I’m so tired,” Lance griped, burying his face into the canvas cover of the chair. “Wake me up when it’s time to go home, will ya Hunk?”

“Sure bud,” said Hunk, absently as he devoured a book Keith knew he’d been itching to read for weeks.

Pidge finished hauling over her own bean-bag and cast a look at Keith over her shoulder. “Is this better, Keith?”

He gulped, his throat suddenly feeling a little tight. “Y-yeah. A lot better than going to the pep rally.”

She grinned. “Good. I’m glad.” Then she paused and tilted her head-- Keith looked away, hoping she hadn’t noticed how his eyes were suddenly shining. But it was too late, and a moment later he found himself being hugged tightly by her scrawny little arms.

And for once, he didn’t really mind it.


End file.
